


Brother Dearest

by PaladinofFarore



Category: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Crossdressing, F/F, F/M, heist mission, space adventures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24432109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaladinofFarore/pseuds/PaladinofFarore
Summary: She had a brother. A family. The revelation was both quiet and devastating. It was something she wasn't ready to face. So she didn't. She turned tail and returned to the stars., to diplomacy and the restoration of magic. This time, however Adam would join her. It was weird, suddenly having a brother, Adora would think. To have someone with whom you shared birth and blood. Someone who you were supposed to grow up with, but didn't.Years later, above everything else, Catra would always remember their first mission together, when she learned that her brother in law actually looked quite good in a dress.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 126





	1. The Butch Sister

They had gotten themselves into some incredibly strange scenarios. They had ended both a decades long war that had consumed their planet and a galactic hegemony that had subjugated trillions of people for generations. All with the power of love and finally getting their shit together emotionally. 

They had taken to the stars to set about uniting the worlds and restoring magic. Along that path they had encountered strange peoples and bizarre monsters so unlike anything in Etheria that it boggled the mind.

And two weeks previously, they had landed on Eternia, and met Adam, Adora’s younger twin brother, prince, and fellow wielder of a sword-of-nebulous-power-and destiny. 

It was a whole thing. Less bizarre and more existentially devastating. They were making it work. Adora had spent countless hours since lying in bed aboard the ship beside Catra talking it out, her emotions an unreadable storm.

Catra had almost shot down Adam’s request to go with them. Adora however, had said yes, tentatively. 

“I’d like...I’d like to get to know him,” she’d confided in her girlfriend later that evening in their room. She’d barely been able to look her parents, the king and queen of a planet she knew next to nothing of apart from its connections to her ancestors' conquest of the universe, in the eye. What was she supposed to say to them, after all? 

Catra had seen the pain in their eyes. Had seen it in Adora’s right alongside the confusion and the instinct to turn and flee back into the stars. 

By the end of the week they’d spent on Adora’s home planet, she’d spoken to them only a handful of times. And each of those times, her body had grown stiff, her skin grew pale, and her eyes would well up. She couldn’t do it. Not then. 

Adam had stepped forward with his request then. Him she’d managed to spend more time with. To speak with more. They’d met on a battlefield, cleaning up the remnants of Skeletor’s horde from the countryside surrounding 

“Alright,” Catra had agreed, sensing the endless intricacies to it all. She took it in stride. It had never occurred to either of them to learn where they’d come from, originally. They were Horde brats. Two of thousands captured and groomed by Hordak for his conquest. Birth families were something they’d learned not to question by the age of five. 

Yet, Adora had one. A father with a big burly beard and a hug that would put even Scorpia to shame, a mother with the same -grey blue eyes and kind face as hers, and a twin brother, with a magical fate forced upon him, and a talking animal as a sacred companion.  
And of course, Adora was also a princess. Heiress to a throne. Catra didn’t know whether to laugh or puke. She had a birth name and a real birthday and a family history. 

It was a lot. But they were dealing. Just like they were dealing with their relationship, their new role in the universe, and their pasts. (Catra still couldn’t sleep some nights. Images of the portal, and screaming, accusatory faces dancing before her eyes. Meditation helped. Sleeping in Adora’s arms helped)

Adam came with them, the green and yellow feline Cringer following, and they went on, running diplomatic missions, occasionally seeing some action. They got on just fine. Adam was sort of quiet, reserved, for that first week or so, but nothing presented itself that they couldn’t handle. Adam was a good diplomat, he worked well with Catra and Glimmer when they sat down to plot out their course of negotiations. Cringer got along well with Melog, though she always seemed to have a weary eye for Catra.

“Be careful, little one,” the skinny green feline had advised Catra in voice only she could understand. “Don’t let your guard down. You never know when the next battle may arrive.” 

Catra almost ignored this advice completely when she remembered Cringer could grow to the size of a standard Horde tank. 

Things went smoothly. Mostly. 

Until, that was...

So there they were on a moon sized space station orbiting an ancient gas giant. The station, Omega Drive, was apparently the gathering place for all the seediest elements of the quadrant.

The diplomat they’d been meant to make contact with in order to bring the system into their widening coalition and trade agreement, a tiny, blue skinned fellow with six arms and a stammer so bad it came through even in written correspondence, had gotten himself nabbed by a crew of gangsters who controlled the nearby asteroid belt. 

Naturally they planned to auction him to the highest bidder.

Also naturally, the Best Friend Squad and their new affiliates had pursued, with virtually zero time for preparation.

That was how the four of them, Adora, Catra, Adam and Double Trouble, brought into their service by a sack of heavy gold placed in their hands by Adam, had ended up sneaking aboard the station through a maintenance hatch on the underside. 

The plan was basic. They would sneak in, grab their man, and hitch an escape ride on the ship, which in the meantime would be manned by Glimmer and Bow (along with Melog and Cringer), riding the gas giants gravity pull all the way around with all systems powered down. The immediate problem to this plan was that the Omega Drive was shielded by a psionic barrier, meaning Melog was forced to stay behind. 

Right out of the gate their stealth mission was without their best stealth tool. 

They’d managed without it, but in the end, the quartet had found themselves pinned down in an abandoned maintenance room in the stations lower half. Their target was to be found in the grand casino at the heart of the complex. Their only roadblock from moving forward, of all things? Clothes. 

“Can’t we just wear what we got?” Catra had asked. They’d stripped out of their void suits and stood in their usual missionwear. 

“Afraid not, kitten,” Double Trouble shook their head. They’d moved forward to run reconnaissance, disguising themselves as an older, high end woman who gave off enough threatening ambiance to not be approached by the staff. 

“Their very strict about dress code ‘round these parts. Saw one fella get shown the door just for having the wrong sort of tie.” 

“Sounds kinda strict for a bunch of criminals,” said Adam. He was seated with his back against the wall, pink shirt disheveled from crawling through a vent to open their way into the room.

“The best criminals all have class, sweet pea,” Double Trouble advised. Adam blushed at the nickname. “It’s the same no matter what planet you're on. The top brass always do their best to well, look their best. We take two steps in their without the proper duds, we’re toast. Thankfully,” they grinned and reached into the folds of their enormous hoop skirt. “I raided the laundry room.” 

“You stole clothes?” Adora asked. 

The shapeshifter gave her a look. Even in their new form, the eyebrow movement was distinctive. 

“We’re talking about loan sharks, slavers and pimps, blondie. I think they can live without an outfit or two.” 

Catra shrugged, pulling away from the wall. 

“Show us what you’ve got then.” 

Catra had it easiest of all. The first of the outfits was a pantsuit that had obviously been tailored either for a magicat, or a similar species. It was a sleek crimson and black combo with a flared color, a matching tie, and a hole cut into the waist for a tail. 

Their problem arrived immediately after. The other two outfits were a slim green dress with a jeweled neckline and a split that ran up both legs to the knees. The other was a simple but well cut black suit. Adam reached for the suit, Adora the dress. 

“Um,” Adora said as she tried to push her arm into a long green sleeve. She grunted and the fabric began to grow taut. “I don’t think this is actually going to fit me.” 

Adjusting her blazer Catra stepped closer to take a look. It was true. The green, silen garment was clearly a size or two too small. Adora has several dresses on the ship for diplomatic purposes that fit her perfectly, though she usually went to the galas and balls and ceremonies as She-Ra.

“You’re too bulky,” she said, unable to contain her smirk. She reached out and squeezed at Adoras bicep. “One flex and you’ll tear it open.” 

“I’m sure you’d just hate that kitten,” Double Trouble drawled. 

Catra scowled. Though the idea was t entirely unappealing. 

“Mine doesn’t fit either,” said Adam. He’d stepped into the slacks, and it was clear at a glance they were a size too large. They hung baggy on him, with a good two inches of extra fabric. The shoulders of his own blazer ballooned upward, making him look like a child who’d crawled inside his fathers clothes. 

The twins shared a sympathetic look, then shucked themselves free of the ill fitting garments.

“Well shit,” Catra said. She looked to Double Trouble. “I’m guessing you’re not any good with a needle?”

“Kitten,” the shapeshifter gave her a withering look. “You know I make all my own clothes, and only for me.” They demonstrated by morphing their dress into six different colors in succession. “I don’t sew.”

“Could some of us stay behind then?” Adora offered. She set the dress down on the floor before her. “You two go ahead and get our guy, we sneak around and meet you at the exit?”

Double Trouble shook their head. 

“There’s no way around. All passages in the station go through that central chamber. The only other way would be to go on the exterior, and that would take days.”

They fell into a silence. 

Great, Catra thought. Their plans had been kneecapped by a wardrobe malfunction. Of all things. They all knew without saying that fighting wasn’t an option. They were probably capable of it, but it would also ignite roughly half a dozen wars. 

“Can I see that for a sec?” Adam asked. He was pointing at the green dress. 

“Sure,” Adora said, expression confused. She handed the garment to her brother, who held it out before him, examining its length. 

“I’ve got an idea,” he said finally, standing. He looked to Double Trouble. “You wouldn’t happen to have any hair stuff? Make up, that kinda thing?”

The shape shifter blinked, eyelids going horizontal and revealing the inky black behind their pupils. 

“I do, obviously. But why?”

Adora and Catra gave him looks that asked the same question. 

Adam smiles sheepishly. 

“This will fit me.”

Catra coughs.

“What?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

The first day they’d met Adam, Catra had gotten a good look at He-man. He-man was tall, slightly taller than She-ra, with a muscled body, flowing blonde hair, and an aura that rolled off him in waves. 

The sort of thing that would be incredibly appealing to people who found men aesthetically pleasing. Catra wasn’t one of those people, though she could all but feel Glimmer and Bows eyes on him even without looking.

Adam was not built like He-man. In fact she’d always thought he was kinda scrawny. Like a slightly more muscled Kyle. Or a Kyle who’d managed to hit puberty. 

Stripped to the waist, it was clear just how different he and his sister were physically. Obvious differences aside. 

Adora stepped up beside Catra, adjusting her tie. 

“Looks good on you,” Catra said, the lightest of purr in her voice. Adora elbowed her in the ribs.

“Knock it off,” she said, but she was smiling.

“Do they flirt like this everywhere?” Adam asked.

He was seated on an old storage crate, now dressed in the green silk dress. Double Trouble stood beside him, pulling at his hair and trying to get it to take shape. 

“Oh yes,” they said without looking up. “Everywhere. Even when they’re apart. Should’ve seen them before they became a thing. Their flirting then was tactical warfare.” 

“You...look good in that, Adam,” Adora said, changing the subject. Catra took note of her tone. It always took on a...not a negative tone, persae, but a confused one. A level one. “Have you...done this before?”

Adam laughed. Double Trouble gave him a smack to be still. 

“A few times. I had to sneak in a couple of places before and well, He-man and a prince both kind of stand out. There are benefits to being a noodle armed bookworm.”

“Must’ve been hard keeping He-man secret that long,” said Catra. She had thought that detail strange. But really, she thought everything about Adam was strange. From the circumstances of their meeting him to the weird way his clothes. Or perhaps it was the fact that “male version of your girlfriend” was kind of nauseating visually to a hardline lesbian. 

Adam’s expression grew pained. Part of it might’ve been the less than gentle way Double Trouble was styling his hair. 

“You never had that problem, did you?” he asked his sister, quietly. They’d talked, of course. But the barrier of the two decades they’d lost stood imperious between them. Adora shook her head. 

“I never saw the point,” she answered. “I...I wasn’t really anyone, outside of the Fright Zone. I was just a Horde soldier.” 

Catra wanted to say she was more than that. That she had always been more than that. She bit her tongue. 

Adam nodded. His eyes, exactly the same hue and shape as Adora’s, grew momentarily distant. 

“I couldn’t let it get out who I was, or I’d lead Skeletor right to us…that ended up happening anyway….” he trailed off. The storytelling part of the conversation died. Neither Adora or Catra spoke up.

“Sit up straight, sweet pea,” Double Trouble said. The prince obeyed, and the shape shifter circled him to start applying makeup. 

The rest was a quick process. 

Even though they’d watched it happen, the effect when the prince stood up, still nearly sent both of them toppling. 

Adam looked almost exactly like Adora now. There were still differences, the curve of Adam’s face was more extreme at the cheeks and his chest was obviously much flatter, even with the socks he’d stuff in to compensate. He looked….good. Really good. Very girlish, not quite womanly, but more like a petite, fae-ish princess. 

His smiled and gave his eyelashes an experimental flutter. 

“Good evening ladies,” his voice was pitched upward. It would never fool anyone who knew what his natural voice sounded like, but with a stranger? He could easily pass for a girl. To a stranger he could easily pass for Adora. 

“Holy shit,” Catra said. She glanced at Adora, then back at Adam. She smirked. “Hey Adora, guess you’re the butch sister. Who knew?” 

Double Trouble fell over laughing. 

“So,” Adam went on. His voice lilted up and down slightly as he got used to it. “Catra, would you mind taking two dates to the ball this evening, or will you exile me to the company of our mercantile friend?” 

“Mercantile!” Double Troubled called indignantly from the floor. “I am an artist!” 

“Two Adora’s on my arm, huh,” Catra mused. “I guess today turned out okay afterall.” 

Adam’s face turned wicked. 

“Don’t get too excited there kitty cat,” he said in his normal, very much male voice. “Don’t let the cute face fool you. I don’t put out on the first date.”

Adora joined Double Trouble on the floor, and Catra found herself unsure if she wanted to kill Adam or if she’d suddenly found that she liked him. 

\--------------------------------

The mission itself was mostly a success. 

Well, it was a success in that they managed to get their get and get to the exit alive and they didn’t start any wars. At least, not any that would be fought right away. For all they knew it would come back to bite them in a decade or so. (It would, in fact, on Adora and Catra’s thirtieth wedding anniversary, but only in the form of a former henchman turned waiter purposefully screwing up their dinner order). 

That success was somewhat hampered by them being discovered. 

It was no one's fault, really. It was bound to happen with the grand total of four operatives on their team. And really, was it such a big deal that, in the heat of the dance floor, Adora and Catra had wandered into a corner for a kiss? 

Adam would say so. Left without an escort, the daintier of the twins was left adrift in the crowd, where a burly henchman in a tailored suit the same color as his battle axe had decided it wasn’t bad form to grab a young lady’s behind. 

“You’re both terrible escorts!” Adam had yelled as they sprinted down the corridor towards the exit hatch, diplomat friend flung over Adora’s shoulder. “For my next date I’ll ask Double Trouble! At least they’ll be a gentleperson!” 

“This is what you get for cavorting with army brats darling!” Double Trouble called, grinning madly and trying to keep their hat from flying away. “No manners at all in the lot of them!” 

“Shut your mouth and run!” Catra hissed. 

Mouths were shut, and the quartet, alongside their political cargo, flung themselves through the airlock into Darla’s waiting door. Bow hit the ignition, and they were off. 

“Why are there two Adora’s?” Glimmer asked, standing above them with her arms crossed, looking bewildered. “And is there going to be an incident?” 

“Nah,” Catra said, shoving Double Trouble’s foot out of her face. “No incident. I think the ones who saw us were just the lower level guys.” 

“We are twins, you know," Adora said, rolling over. Her suit jacket had grown disheveled. She reached up and let her hair out of its pony tail. 

"Yeah," Adam agreed in his normal voice. He shot a smile at his sister. "Can't you tell us apart?"


	2. Beer Bread

They dropped off their diplomat friend at a nearby transit station. He was grumbly, irritable, and less than grateful for their rather tedious and exhausting rescue mission, so they were glad to be rid of him. 

Afterwards they collapsed for the evening. Or for whatever passed for evening for a crew of young people who spent much of their time in space. 

It was an hour before they noticed that Double Trouble was gone.

“Where’d they go?” Bow asked. He was seated at the long kitchen table, Glimmer leaned against his shoulder. 

“Probably got off at the station,” said Glimmer. 

“Figured they’d ditch eventually,” said Catra from her place on Adoras lap. Adora had her head leaned back and her eyes closed, scratching idly behind her girlfriend's ear. 

“Good thing most of that gold I gave them was fake,” said Adam. He was sprawled against Cringer. “That might be part of why they left. Sorry about that. Just thought they were kinda sketchy.”

“They are sketchy,” said Adora without looking up. “Useful, but I wasn’t really sure if I wanted them working with us too long term. They switch sides a lot.”

“Sounds like a typical mercenary. They seemed alright though. Really good at applying foundation.” Adam wipes at his cheek. He hadn’t quite managed to get all the makeup off his face yet. 

“Yup,” Catra said. She was doing her best to hide the traces of pleasure from her voice. The ear scratching was top shelf quality. “They’re good. Not always predictable. They’ll probably bounce back our way in a month or two when the gigs dry up. They don’t have as many contacts out here as they do back home.” 

They fell into silence broken only by a series of yawns. 

“We calling it a night then?” Bow finally asked. 

“It’s kind of early,” said Adora. She looked up at the clock on the wall. Even in space, they did their best to keep to a regular sleep schedule. This proved somewhat difficult depending on where they were and where they were going. But they made it work.

“We could always get to work on the Praxis deal,” Catra said, shooting a smirk at Glimmer.

“Fuck off,” the Queen said. Her eyes had been half closed, but they edged open to glare at her feline advisor. “I don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. Lousy bureaucrats.” 

To the people of the Praxis system numbers and administrative organization was a religion that had survived even under the heel of Prime. With him gone it had re-emerged at fanatical levels, meaning negotiating with them was essentially having lengthy discussions with accountants. 

“Do we have any beer?” Bow asked. They’d picked some up at their last supply stop, but with six occupants, eight if you counted the two quadrupedal felines, supplies came and went quickly. 

Adam rolled off Cringer, earning him a grunt, and padded over to the small fridge built into the wall. He pulled the door open. 

“Only the cheap stuff,” he said. “Looks like DT made off with the good stuff.” 

Light groans sounded around the room. 

“Just throw it out,” said Catra. “It’s just taking up space. Don’t know we got that shit in the first place.” 

“Misread the label one time…” Bow grumbled. 

Adam moved to close the fridge, then paused. 

“I know what we can do with these.” 

He picked up the six pack and closed the fridge. He moved towards the door, drumming his fingers against the orange metal cans. He paused in the doorway. 

“Mind giving me a hand, Adora?” he asked, as neutrally, as pleasantly, as he could manage. Adora looked up. 

“Sure,” she answered. She looked down and met Catra’s gaze. Her girlfriend's ear twitched. ‘Do you want me to come?’ was the silent question. Adora considered for a moment then shook her head. She kissed Catras cheek, after which the magicat made a dramatic show of just how difficult getting up was.

As she did so, she shared a look with Glimmer and Bow. Adora noticed this, but neither her friends or her girlfriend did much to hide it. Usually, this was where Catra would make some sort of pithy remark or joke. Instead, she stayed silent as Adora followed her brother from the room. The three of them had formed an agreement about her and Adam. That they wouldn’t interfere. They wouldn’t ask the questions that were Adora’s to ask. They were friendly with Adam, but their conversations with him inevitably dead ended. It would be detrimental before too long. They were trying to build interplanetary cooperation. In terms of distance, despite being separated from Etheria by a twisty but not terribly long asteroid field, Eternia was one of their closest neighbors, with which they shared an immense amount of history. 

It was ancient Eternians, after all, who had retrofitted their planet into a universe ending super weapon. 

Her friends had asked Adam nothing about it. She had seen Glimmer strangled political questions on her tongue before they could come out. Catra had been supportive, had listened to her ramble about how uncerctain she was, leaving her own feelings, which Adora knew she had, unspoken. All to spare her discomfort. 

Adora was grateful. She was also...frustrated. With herself, most of all. She had gone into countless battles against terrifying opponents. The Horde, Catra, Prime himself, yet talking to a boy with her own eyes, her own hair, made her freeze, go numb. 

“So,” she asked lightly as the door closed behind them. “What are we doing? Chucking the beer out an airlock?” 

“We,” Adam said, leading them down the hallway to the kitchen, “are making bread.” 

Adora blinked. 

“Bread?” she asked. 

“Bread,” Adam confirmed. The kitchen door slid open and the lights turned on automatically. It was a very small room. Darla was clearly a ship designed for only a small crew, and as such it had been equipped with facilities that became very claustrophobic when you tried to stuff them full of five fully grown twenty-somethings.” 

“You bake?” Three questions in a row. She was getting better at this. 

Adam set the beer down on the counter and moved to a nearby cupboard. 

“All the time,” he answered, looking up at her. His eyes still startled her sometimes. It was like looking into a mirror. The same color, the same shape, yet still different. “My biggest hobby, apart from reading. I tried to do both, once,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Didn’t end well. Ruined a cake and book older than I am. Not a fun day.” 

Adora laughed, only half forced. 

Adam was funny. Easy to talk to. But a barricade still formed in her throat everytime. 

“Would you mind setting the oven to setting six?” he asked. He’d pulled a pair of mixing bowls and a series of ingredients from the cupboards and had arranged them on the counter. 

“Sure,” Adora said. She stepped over to the oven and turned the central dial on the interface. She could actually read the symbols there. One stood for baking, another, broiling. That had never stopped bothering her, being able to read a language she’d never learned. 

It felt...invasive, predatory almost. The words had been forced into her brain to make her a tool of her ancestors. The First One’s She-Ra, a weapon to kill everything. She shook her head. Thinking about that never led to anything good. It was something she knew she needed to deal with. 

But like with her brother...she just didn’t know how.

“The secret to beer bread,” Adam began, “is that the worse the beer, the better.” He’d begun gathering the ingredients together in the largest mixing bowl, a chrome monstrosity the bigger than his head. Flower, salt, eggs. He measured them with knowledgeable, experienced hands. “You don’t wanna waste the good stuff on this recipe. The heat burns away basically all the flavor and the alcohol. What is leaves behind is mostly texture and after taste.” 

He pulled a beer free of the plastic and offered it to Adora. 

“Do the honors?” he asked. 

Smiling a little, Adora took the can, cracked the tab, and started pouring it into the bowl. The golden liquid turned the mixture a deeper shade of brown. 

“I’ve never really heard of using beer in baking,” she said. She knew very little of baking apart from the fact that she enjoyed cake and that Catra, despite only taking a single lesson, was already better at it than she probably ever would be. Catra’s hands were good with finesse, with intricacies. Her own were meant for a sword, for punching. 

Adam made a face. 

“Its..” he hesitated, only for a second, but it was a long second. “It’s an old recipe...mo-my mother taught it to me.” 

Adora took in a breath. Far sharper than she’d have liked. 

That word. 

Mom

Adam had noticeably avoided using possessive modifiers when using that word, and the other word that went with it that started with a D. She didn’t know how she felt about that. She didn’t know how she felt about any of it at all. And that just made her feel angry. 

Mothers and fathers were something other people had. They were Bows dads, and Micah and once Angella. Older people who were meant to look after you, to teach and guide you. When she heard the word ‘mother’ all she could imagine was a cracked mask on a stone floor, and the urge to vomit. 

She tossed the empty beer can in the waste basket. 

Adam sighed. 

“Look,” he said, looking aside, trying to gather the words. “I...you don’t owe me anything, alright?” 

Adora didn’t answer. She just looked down at the floor. 

“I really appreciate that you let me and Cringer come along,” he continued. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, eyes also on the floor. “It means a lot to me, and I know it can’t be easy to meet some knucklehead like me and get...all of this dumped on your lap.” 

He clearly wanted to say more but he fell silent, hands tightening on his elbows. 

“I-” Adora finally said, voice breaking. “I just...I don’t know. I have so many questions. But I don’t know where to start.”

Adam took in a breath of his own. 

“How about little stuff? Or impersonal stuff?” he suggested. “We’ve heard bits and pieces about each other. About our lives. We could start there. Or we could start with history. If Eternia and Etheria are going to be allies, we need to get to know each other. We used to be sister planets, after all.” 

Adora managed a chuckle, albeit a raspy one. 

“Bows dad would kill to talk to you. They’ve spent decades researching the First Ones. You’ll probably ruin their life’s work.”

Adam returned the chuckle, rusty and a little unsure. 

“Well, if they’re as nice as Bow, I’d be glad to talk to them.”

She sees the opening, and, the ice around her heart melting a little, she goes for it.

“‘Nice’,” she teases. “Is that why you stare at his abs so much?” 

Adam blushes, and Adora feels herself smile. 

“To my credit,” he said, flustered. “He does go around in a crop top even in outer fucking space. And what can I say, I appreciate a handsome man when I see one.” 

“You’re gay too, then?” an innocuous enough question. Personal, but one on a relatable level. Maybe a little invasive, but detached from her. Adam shook his head. 

“Bi,” he corrected. 

Adam reached for the beer and began the process of adding it to the mix. 

“So,” Adora began. She leaned against the counter, watching the beer circle the inside of the mixing bowl. “Personal stuff. Mind telling me these other occasions you had to wear a dress as a disguise?” 

Again, Adam blushed. 

“Going for the low hanging fruit, I see,” he said wryly. “I see your angle. Well, on Eternia, there’s this place called the Conclave. It’s a religious institution. Very old, very sacred, and very much only for women. Teela and I heard a rumor that an enemy of ours had infiltrated it looking for an old relic Skeletor wanted for his plans.” 

“We couldn’t just announce to the conclave they’d been compromised, of course. It’s mostly elderly women, soldiers’ widows, stuff like that. Really rowdy for people cloistered away from public life They’d lose their minds and our target would get away. So, we had to go undercover as initiates.” His blush intensified. "We had to wear these sheer white shifts and veils. Not eh, not quite as fashionable as the dress at Overdrive. With that I could at least hide how flat chested I am. Some of the women there thought I must be a ten year old for how flat and bony I am." 

The story was peppered with names she half recognized from things he’d said over the last week. Teela, that name came a lot. And Skeletor, a dark sorcerer and an enemy of Eternia. She hadn’t let a lot of what he’d said truly take hold in her brain. 

“Did you catch your target?” 

Adam made a see sawing motion with his free hand. 

“Kind of. We did find her, and we got to the artifact before she did, but she got away. We got caught up in a prayer ritual, and when two dozen older women pull you into a ceremony, there’s not really any getting away.” 

Adora snorted. 

“You weren’t found out then?” 

“Nope,” he popped the p. “Walked away very much still in disguise.”

“You do pull off a dress very well.” 

“Thank you.”

Silence came again for a moment as Adam dumped the dough out on the counter and began rolling it beneath his hands. As soon as it left the bowl, Adora could smell it, the bittersweet mixture of alcohol, sugar and salt that almost tasted tangy on the air. 

“You and Catra grew up together, then?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah,” Adora said, quietly. “Our whole lives.” 

“And then you were enemies?” 

“For a little while.” Three years, some of the best and worst moments of her entire life crammed into one small period. Adam shook his head. 

“I always imagined what it would be like to meet you,” he admitted. “But I gotta say, I never imagined you would arrive on Eternia one day, not only as She-Ra, but with an Etherian queen and your magicat, warlord girlfriend in tow.”

“Hey,” Adora protested lightly “Reformed warlord girlfriend, thank you very much.”

Adam threw up his hands, sending tiny bits of dough flying in all directions. 

“Hey I don’t judge. One of my closest friends is a former dark sorceress who nearly killed all of us. She was that target I was just talking about. She dropped the ‘dark’ part, and now she’s just kind of a bitch. But, ya know, the kind of bitch that you really want on your side and who's pretty okay when you get to know her.”

Adora knew that very well. 

They shared a full throated laugh then. More dough went flying. When they were done, the clean up job had gotten exponentially bigger. When the bread was finally in the oven, Adam wiped his hands on his pants and turned to face Adora. 

“How about,” he said, “we start with history stuff. It’s as good a place as any to start and from there, if you want to know more…” he trailed off. 

“Yeah,” Adora said, quietly. “That...that sounds good Adam.” 

Her life was so entwined with history that it was inevitable the other questions, the personal ones, would arrive before too long. Maybe then, with context and lead in, she would actually be ready to ask them. 

“Do you mind telling the others with me?” she asked. “I’d..I’d like them to hear it.” 

“Of course,” said Adam. “That should make any future negotiations go all the smoother.” 

“Thank you,” Adora breathed. She hesitated. On her tongue was perhaps the first and foremost of her questions. The one that bothered her most of all. She considered waiting to ask it. But, she decided, this was the question, the one question, that she wanted to ask only when she and Adam were alone. 

“What,” she said, so quietly that it barely escaped her mouth. “What was my name?” 

Adam met her eyes. Ten full seconds passed. 

“Diana,” he said, finally. “Your name was Diana.

**Author's Note:**

> Couple of things.  
> I gender flipped Cringer, mostly to make it a parallel with Adora and Swift Wind (female hero, male companion, male hero, female companion)  
> I have a couple ideas of where this might go depending on the reception. I really would like to explore the deeper drama of Adora discovering where she comes from. But I wanted to open on   
> a lighter, funnier idea.
> 
> If you’d like to see more please comment  
> I’m more likely to continue with more feedback


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